


Mind of Madness

by Enraged_Erin



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dovahkiin and C.O.C. are the same person, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 21:29:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17536622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enraged_Erin/pseuds/Enraged_Erin
Summary: I wanted to write a oneshot fic of my character's inner turmoil when it came to sparing Cicero during the quest "Cure for Madness". I have played Oblivion and Skyrim and always wondered, what if the Dragonborn is not only a legendary hero foretold to arrive in times of need, but the same hero reborn from the Oblivion Crisis.





	Mind of Madness

 I was looking down at the fool, Cicero was his name. It was like looking into my past once more. Watching as those I cared for... tried to protect bled out on the floor. Arnbjorn had managed to injure Cicero before he had made his way inside this abandoned sanctuary. But the memories of the past life, my previous incarnation, kept dragging itself to the forefront of my mind. The sound of his raspy voice as he clutched at his abdomen stole me from my thoughts. "Do what you will... In the end, Sithis will judge us both."

 Sithis... that's right. 200 years ago, I served Sithis. Or at least... my past self. I had killed Agronak gro-Malog in the Arena, but he wouldn't fight back. And when I slept that following night... I was met with Lucien Lachance, a Speaker of the Black Hand. I wouldn't call myself a cold-blooded killer - but rather a righteous one. I made it a point to only kill who I had to if their crimes and the reason for the contract was validated. And I still hold true to that. But I had lost sense of who I was, much like Cicero had after his final contract. Only his madness stemmed from the isolation and inability to kill again thanks to his new duties as Keeper of the Night Mother. My madness... stemmed from being the temporary Prince of Madness.

 But it would seem that Cicero hadn't noticed that when I was near, his sanity returned - or whatever sanity a killer could have. I could barely say that I was sane myself. A mortal with a past reincarnation from 200 years ago? Anybody would think that was insane. Maybe this was the reason the Night Mother chose me as Listener... because I already WAS the Listener. However I keep finding myself into these problems is beyond me, but what matters now is what I do at present.

 My hand was still tightly gripped around my sword, but it wasn't to prepare to strike him down. I was angry at myself. Then I heard it - Lucien's voice. I had forgotten that he was my spectral assassin. "I will kill this jester if you so desire, but there is a disturbance in the Void. Our Dread Father does not wish this."

 Turning to face him, I frowned. I didn't want to kill Cicero to begin with. I followed him here on an instinct... but not to kill. Yes, he had assaulted Astrid - but in my eyes, she was the one in the wrong. She admitted that she had said some disrespectful things about the Night Mother. His reaction was prompt, as would be anyone's if someone they 'loved' were insulted. I can't fault him for that. The reason I stand before him now... is not to kill him...

 "Cicero." I whispered under my breath, before throwing my sword across the stone floor in anger. "Your madness... No... MY presence alone is to blame." Willing a spell of Healing Hands into my left palm, I knelt down next to his curled form on the floor. "If anyone is to be punished for all of this... it's me." Pressing my hand with the charged spell on top of the wound he was struggling to keep closed, I let the healing magic spill out and into the injury.

 Standing up almost as soon as the last of my magicka drained, I turned my back to the jester still on the floor, possibly in shock. He knew I was sent to kill him, yet I didn't. I'll lie to Astrid. If I kill Cicero, I'll be no better than any common assassin. I'm better than them. I only kill for a reason. Once I set foot outside, I sat down on the gravelled path and heaved a deep sigh. I don't regret my decision.

 It wasn't until several hours later that the stone door of the Dawnstar Sanctuary opened, revealing Cicero. I didn't react. Didn't need to. I knew he would leave eventually and would want to know what I meant and why I healed him. I didn't care if the cold had seeped into my bones by now. "Why did you spare me? What did you mean 'your presence alone is to blame'?"

 "A story for another time." I blankly responded, refusing to look into his eyes and instead staring at the ocean.

 "Then why are you still here? And they say I'm crazy." he laughed under his breath, the madness slowly creeping back into his voice, but not nearly as notable as before.

 "Maybe I felt guilty. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're still alive."

 "You never answered my question, Listener. Why did you spare poor Cicero?" There's the madness. I've already learned his body language. He loses whatever grip on sanity he has when he's angry and it shows through his exaggerated movements of his arms.

 "Why?" I let loose a laugh of my own, the power of my dragonblood causing it to rumble around us slightly. "Because I'm a killer, yes... but an honorable one. I kill those who deserve it. You didn't deserve death. At least... not now. We all have our time." Except me. I fought so hard to stop the Oblivion Crisis all those years ago, became the diety of Madness itself, and then woke up here in Skyrim 200 years later. I should have died. Should be DEAD. If not from marauders or bandits then from old age. Yet, I still sit here on Mundus. The only thing that's changed about me is this dragonblood. I never had it before.

 "You are troubled by something. Cicero can tell." I had been so lost in thought that I didn't notice that he was right behind me and whispering right into my ear. Fortunately, after being exposed to the Prince of Madness and being him myself for a short while, paranoia isn't a problem. You grow used to things whispering in your ears. "Tell me what is going through your mind."

 "To understand my mind is madness in itself, Cicero." I slowly pushed myself to my feet, turning to look into his eyes as I dusted off my leggings. "But I'm sure you've noticed that. Besides... it's not like someone of your profession to even warrant concern for someone's mental stability. Ironically speaking, of course." He clearly wasn't going to stop pestering me about this until I told him what he wanted to know. Maybe some day... but not now.

 I just want to forget.

 I just want to live my life.

 I just want to be...

 Me.


End file.
